Rounding the Edges
by sadladybug
Summary: It can take some grit and hard work to grind out the sharp edges, but the effort can produce something that shines. A oneshot in which Katara learns a few new things about Zuko, including the fact that he may be very difficult to live without. Featuring unexpected teamwork, tense training moments, and more than a few awkward conversations. For the ZK 2015 Secret Santa Exchange.


He's doing it again.

He's giving her that _look_.

While everyone else is lounging around the beach after a hard day of training – and that included hard training for _her_ too, though no one seemed to acknowledge it – there he is, sitting at the dining table and sneaking glances at her while she preps for dinner. He's pretending to be studying the maps of the Fire Nation that are spread before him, but she knows better. It's his country, for spirit's sake, he should know the ins and outs of it by now. Katara half suspects that this is yet another example of how he doesn't know how to have fun. Otherwise he would be out there with the rest of them, splashing in the water and building sand castles. Like they had been each afternoon since they arrived on Ember Island two days ago. Like she wishes _she_ were doing. Though she should feel some satisfaction that she isn't the only one who isn't goofing off, for some reason his presence just amplifies her irritation.

It wasn't fair.

Normally she wouldn't mind these tasks; she likes doing her part and caring for the people she loves. But it hadn't been the best of days. The impending comet had everyone on edge, though they all danced around the topic and avoided touching it, like a hot coal. Aang's training was going well, but it wasn't fast enough and everyone felt it. Her hope flickered every time Aang's firebending got a little out of control or each time Toph broadsided him with a rock. He was trying his best, but when the time came there would be no room for those kind of mistakes.

Zuko shifts restlessly in his chair for the hundredth time and her shoulders creep just a little closer to her ears, tension building. Gripping her knife a little tighter, she chops the fish into extra small pieces. Just as she thinks she might start to relax he does it _again_.

This time she catches his eye and holds it. Katara puts her knife down and her fist finds her hip.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Zuko flinches and his eyes flick around the room. "No."

"Really? There's _nowhere_ else in this _whole_ beach house where you could be right now?"

He looks confused. "Um, I was just looking at these maps…"

She picks up a yam but doesn't take her eyes off of him. "Well, if you don't mind, I'd really like to be alone right now. Unless you want to help me, could you please take your maps somewhere else?"

"Can I?"

Spirits, he _cannot_ be this dense. She huffs. "Can you what? Take your maps somewhere else? I can think of at least three places that - "

"No. Can I help you?"

She blinks. "You want to help me?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Sure. If you want me to. It would go faster with two people."

"Oh." Shame settles over her like a heavy blanket. None of this was his fault. Though she still can't believe it sometimes, she had to admit that he'd gone above and beyond since joining the group, doing his best to win everyone over – including her, which was no easy task. One that wasn't quite complete, but it had certainly changed dramatically in the past few weeks. She was finding that despite his awkward demeanor and sketchy past, she actually kind of _liked_ Zuko. At least he was earnest in his efforts and not afraid of a challenge. But old habits die hard; it was all too easy to resume using him as a punching bag. It was another thing that wasn't fair, but this was one she could control.

She gestures at the pile of vegetables. "Sure, I guess. Thanks."

He looks far too happy to be invited to engage in menial labor, and she's still getting used to his smiles. They come a little more often now, and she finds that she likes this about him too. He pushes himself away from the table and approaches the countertop. "Where should I start?"

"The lotus root. But not too thick or they'll never cook."

Zuko doesn't reach for the cutlery on the countertop like she expects. Instead, he kneels and pulls a knife from his boot. She looks on in horror as he unsheathes it and reaches for the vegetables. She rallies just before he makes contact. "Hey! Is that even clean?"

He quirks a brow. "Of course. I always clean it."

"It was in your _shoe_." The look he's giving her tells her that he doesn't see the problem. Rather than explain, she snatches it from him. "Here. Let me."

Using her bending, she cleanses the blade and dries it. Satisfied that their dinner won't taste like Zuko's feet, she hands it back. As she does, she catches the inscription on the blade.

"Made in Earth Kingdom?"

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the lotus root again. Under his breath he mutters, "Why do people always read _that_ side?"

"What was that?"

He starts peeling and slicing. "Nothing. It was a gift. From my Uncle."

"That doesn't seem very patriotic. Why would your Uncle give you an Earth Kingdom knife?"

He winces. "It… was an offering from the general who surrendered when Uncle Iroh broke through the walls of Ba Sing Se."

She pauses in her chopping. "That's… kind of a morbid gift. On both accounts."

He frowns. "That's _not_ why he gave it to me."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." Silence bubbles up between them and she feels guilty for obviously hitting a nerve, even though it wasn't on purpose. A change of topic was obviously in order. She eyes the clean, even cuts on his vegetables and offers him a smile. "You're pretty good with a blade."

He smirks, as though entertaining a private joke. "You could say that."

"Oh yeah? How good?"

His eyes slant to her pile of cubed yams. "Better than you."

She can sense the mood shifting in a positive direction, and after years of friendly sibling competition she knows just the way to keep it going. She smiles. "Wanna bet?" She grabs four more lotus roots and plunks two down in front of each of them. "Chopping contest! First one to peel and chop these wins." She catches the glint in his eyes as each of them ready their knives.

" _Go!"_

Katara might not have grown up with a lot of fresh produce, but she's no stranger to a blade. She has fond memories of helping Gran Gran tan hides and clean the game brought home from the hunt. Yet she has barely finished peeling her first root when she hears the staccato beat of Zuko's knife tapping against the counter, quick and insistent. The knife in her own hand slows and she stops to watch him, marveling at the precision and speed of his fingers.

The moment the last slice is made he slams his knife down in triumph. "Ha! Told you!"

She nods her approval. "I admit it; I'm impressed." She elbows him and places another few roots in front of him. "And now that I know how fast you are, I'll be sure to ask for your help with dinner every night."

She expects a snarky comeback, but Zuko just shrugs. "I wouldn't mind."

She focuses intently on the vegetables in front of her and prays that the hair hanging in her face covers the heat in her cheeks. The ensuing silence is too much, and her mind grabs onto the first coherent thing it can find. She clears her throat. "You know, we once met a girl who was scary good with knives. Well, throwing them, anyway. She had lots of different types stashed in her sleeves or something, because she never seemed to run out of them. One time she pinned me to a tree and – "

Zuko's hand slips and he sucks air between his teeth. Katara startles and looks over to see blood blossoming across the pale skin of his index finger.

"Zuko! Here, let me see." Without waiting for permission she pulls his hand into her own; the cut is brief but deep. "So much for being good with a blade," she chastises. He says nothing as she uses her other hand to pull water out of the air. The water she gathers covers the wound and Katara slowly exhales, letting her eyes fall closed. Behind her eyelids the world glows blue as she feels the skin knit. When she opens them she inspects her work, letting a fingertip graze over the now unbroken skin.

Zuko's voice is thin and tinged with awe. "There's not even a scar."

She looks at his face and his expression is pained. He swallows hard. She can see the reflection of green crystals and the pull of regret in his eyes. When this was all over, maybe Chief Arnook… but maybe he wouldn't want that anymore. Maybe that wasn't what it was about to begin with. She squeezes the hand still cradled in her own. This seems to bring him back to the present, his eyes jump to hers and he snatches his hand back on reflex. He must be able to read the hurt expression on her face, because he looks away and rubs the back of his neck.

"Thank you." He won't look at her now; he shifts nervously on his feet. "And – and I'm sorry. Really. I – "

"Zuko, stop." She turns back to the countertop and picks up her knife as casually as she can. "It's okay. Really." She offers him a smile she can't quite feel. "Let's just get back to work, okay?"

He nods and they resume their chopping in an uneasy silence. This time, Katara can't think of a single appropriate thing to say, so she keeps quiet. When Zuko finally speaks, she almost jumps.

"Mai."

"What?"

"The girl with the knives. Was she Azula's friend?"

"That's the one. Wears all black and acts really bored?"

A sad smile appears. "That's her. Her name is Mai."

"Oh." She doesn't know why this information makes her feel uncomfortable, but it does. "Were you friends or something?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Or something."

There's a strangled feeling in Katara's chest that she refuses to name. "I see. And now?"

He remains focused on the task in front of him. "It's complicated."

She blows air past her teeth. "I know all about complicated."

He gives her a careful look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He doesn't ask, and she doesn't explain. Together they scrape the last of the vegetables into the stew pot. Before she can even ask he lights the fire in the stove for her. Without another word he wipes his blade clean and shuffles back to his stack of maps. This time, she's the one sending surreptitious glances his way, but he's oblivious to each one.

* * *

That night she discovers that she isn't the only one who can't sleep. As she lays in bed her mind ricochets between worries about the impending battle and the odd conversation with Zuko earlier in the day. She tries to banish both topics from her mind, but no matter how hard she squeezes her eyes closed she can't seem to drown them out. So it just so happens that she is wide awake and alert when there is movement outside her door.

The feet that shuffle down the hallway are almost soundless, but the front door creaks noisily as it opens and closes. With feet that light it must be Aang, though what would prompt any midnight excursions on his part is a mystery. Curious, she slips out of bed and tiptoes her way outside.

The mystery doesn't take much time or effort to solve; as soon as she approaches the shore she can see a lone figure out on the beach. What surprises her is that she was wrong about who was doing the sneaking.

From this distance, Zuko is silhouetted against the crashing tides, the light of the full moon glinting in his hair. His movements are strange; they aren't bending forms, but they are just as powerful and graceful. As she gets closer, she sees two long sticks gripped in each hand. The way he spins and leaps with them is both odd and enchanting. She finds herself mesmerized by the dance, but when he turns a half-step he registers her presence and he stops short. The sticks drop to his sides.

"Katara? What are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He nods. "Me neither."

They stand regarding each other, some of the unease from earlier still hanging between them. If only to banish one of her many worries, she steels herself to the task of reconciling the distance between them. She steps a little closer and points to his hands.

"What are you doing with those?"

He hefts one stick and looks at it, then drops it back to his side. "Oh. These are a poor imitation I guess. I can't practice with my broadswords anymore, so I thought I'd try these. Better than nothing, but not by much."

This sparks her interest. "Broadswords? So you _are_ trained in the art of pointy things."

He shrugs. "I guess so. I wish I had the real thing, though."

Katara wracks her brain and, sure enough, from the corners of her memory she can recall the sheath that was strapped across his back as he and Aang departed for the Sun Warrior ruins. "I didn't know there were two. What happened to them?"

His expression clouds. "They got left behind when Azula attacked the temple."

So many things were abandoned that day; she tries not to think too hard about the people and the things that she had been separated from. "I'm sorry." As they stare awkwardly at each other, Katara thinks that she has never had so many stilted conversations in her life. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth with him, but for some reason it seemed worth the effort. As she reaches for something to say, it occurs to Katara that she has never seen him attack or defend with anything but firebending. "How come you never used them before? When you were on the other side, I mean."

He seems uncomfortable with the question; his eyes skip away before answering. "I did sometimes. I had to be careful. And most of the time I could just use my bending."

There's something he isn't saying, but she doesn't press. "You prefer to use your bending, then?"

"Not necessarily."

He doesn't elaborate, and the uncomfortable silence emerges again. The crashing tides behind him seem unnaturally loud. She fidgets with her hands. "Well, I don't want to bother you. I'll just go back inside and leave you to it." She spins on her heel but his voice stops her.

"Stay!" She gives him a look over her shoulder and he kicks softly at the sand. "If you want to, that is. You wouldn't be bothering me."

"You sure?"

He nods and she turns back around. She sits down in the sand and hugs her knees to her chest. She considers it a victory of sorts that he had asked her to stay, but now she isn't sure what she should be doing. This wouldn't be the first time she had watched him practice, but this feels different. She is an audience of one, and while she might _want_ to stare as he works his way through the forms, she isn't sure she's _supposed_ to. She opts to feign mild interest, and occupies her hands by running them through the sand, watching the grains sift through her fingers as she studies Zuko in her periphery. His movements are precise and flawless, and she envies his grace.

"…So, how did you learn to do that?"

"I had a good teacher."

She tries to sound casual. "Was it Mai?"

He snorts, but she doesn't know why. "No. My mother found a master to teach me in secret when I was young"

"Why was it in secret?"

"I'm a firebender. Weapons are for nonbenders. In the Fire Nation it's a sign of weakness to need to rely on other means of defense."

She frowns. "Only to those stupid enough to not to give themselves every advantage."

The stutter in his otherwise fluid movements is the only clue to his surprise. "You think so?"

"Of course! Even if you can bend, there might be times when you can't." She thinks of the North Pole when the moon turned to ash, or the quick jab of fingers at her shoulders. She shudders and shakes off the memories. "It's always good to have a backup plan."

He nods and keeps moving, the sticks sweeping past one another without touching. "I think that was what my mother thought, too. In fact, the swords came in handy during the eclipse when I confronted my father."

The sand drops from her hand and her head snaps up. He has her full attention. "You confronted your father?"

"Oh. I guess you wouldn't know. I went to see him knowing he was at a disadvantage, and I spoke my mind about how he had treated me and what I thought about his vision for empire. He didn't seem to like what I had to say."

She chuckles. "I bet not. How could you tell?"

An aggressive, quick jab forward. "He shot lightning at me."

Her skin goes cold. "He _what_?" Zuko keeps moving but doesn't respond; he spins, swings the mock blades in an arc above and behind his head. His attacks become a little more forceful, a little more uncontrolled. Katara is stunned as she considers the ramifications. She had always demonized the Fire Lord, knowing he was capable of great evil, but to attack his own son? She tries to imagine her father trying to hurt her, or her brother, but the scenario is impossible to fathom.

"Zuko, I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. It's actually not the worst thing he's ever done. And it's not the first time a member of my family has tried to kill me that way."

Indignation simmers in her chest on his behalf, but as she watches him it shifts into something else. It's not quite pity, because he's too strong for that, and it's not quite awe, because somehow she isn't entirely surprised that he would endure even the worst of circumstances. It strikes her that she thought she had him all figured out, but he keeps catching her off guard, reminding her that she doesn't really know him at all. It's still all too easy to remember the ship and the armor, the anger and the pride. But this isn't the same person who stepped onto the ice all those months ago; it's not even the same person she met in the caves underneath a great city. That person would have never let Toph ride around on his back, or made bad jokes and even worse tea, or listened with patient silence as she recalled a story about hulking steel ships and black snow. Despite growing up amongst monsters, he still maintained a tenderness that continued to surprise her, a kindness that was revealed a little more every day. He _had_ changed. Or maybe he was finally allowed to just be himself. With a start she recognizes the emotion that she feels toward him: pride.

She smiles and mutters, "You really _do_ deserve the 'not as big of a jerk as you could have been' award."

He stops and gives her a look. "What?"

She holds her hands out in supplication. "Nothing! … Anyway, I think it's pretty neat that you know how to use a weapon."

A smile works its way onto his face, and he tries to cover it with a sleeve as he wipes sweat from his brow. "What weapons do you know how to use?"

She smiles sheepishly. "Waterbending is all I've got. I've thought about asking Suki to teach me a few things, but I've never had the chance with everything else going on. Aang's training comes first."

He seems to consider something. He gestures with one of the sticks. "You want to learn?"

"Me? Oh no, I couldn't possibly…"

"Why not? A few basics couldn't hurt. It's always good to be prepared, right?"

He motions for her to come closer, and hesitantly she rises from the sand and dusts off her clothes. When she gets close enough he offers her the sticks. The bark is rough and warm in her hands from where he has been gripping them. She holds them out like she had seen him do. "Like this?"

He nods. "These won't do anything to help in terms of weight or balance, but you'll just have to use your imagination."

She takes an experimental swing or two, trying to imitate what she had seen from him. He steps back and watches her for a moment. "You must have been watching me pretty closely."

She flushes. "Not _that_ closely!"

"I didn't mean… I just meant that you're not half bad." He glances to the left. "Hang on." He stoops to pick up a long piece of driftwood and cracks it in two with his knee. With one piece in each hand, he gets into position. "Okay. Follow me."

A social butterfly he may not be, but this is obviously his element. He's all business as he assumes the role of teacher. He demonstrates the basic katas and she follows him the best she can, but it's like working against her instincts – mirroring him means leading with her non-dominant side. Even when she comments on this and he turns his back to her, she still finds herself stumbling over her feet.

"You're going too fast! I can't keep up."

Zuko sighs and sticks the points of his own makeshift swords into the sand. He approaches her, circling around her as she stands with sticks raised. From her periphery she can see him reach for her, but he stops short.

"May I?"

Katara nods. Even though she knows it's coming, she almost jumps out of her skin when his hands gently circle her forearms, correcting her posture.

"There. Keep your wrists loose and your arms like this." She swallows and tries to focus on the lesson and not the sudden warm presence at her back. "Alright. Now follow my movement. Ready?"

She nods again. Still holding her forearms, he guides her through the moves in slow motion, gliding along with her as her arms sweep down and out, as they step and bend, and she can't help but think it's a little like dancing. The exhilarated tingle of her skin tells her that this is a little subversive, a little dangerous. She suppresses a bubble of giddy laughter at the thought that she is _so_ glad she couldn't sleep tonight.

His voice is low in her ear as they move, his breath whispering across her cheek. "The thing to remember is that these are a single unit. They move in unison. When used alone they lose power; their greatest strength is when they are operating as one, balancing offense and defense. They are two halves of a whole."

The words echo through her mind as they pivot slowly across the sand, Zuko leading her through various forms. She's trying to concentrate, she really is, but his presence is more than a bit distracting. Each time he brushes against her she feels a little jolt of excitement, and she doesn't want to think too hard about what that means. She only knows that she feels disappointed when he finally releases her arms and steps back.

"Good. Now show me."

She almost panics at the request, she isn't sure she can remember any of what just happened. Not to mention that he'll be _watching_ her while she performs. But still she tries, and she must do a passing job because her hopeful glance at the end is rewarded with a small smile.

"Not bad for your first time. You're a fast learner."

She stands straight and gives him a wry smile. "I _did_ become a waterbending master in under a year."

He nods as he considers this. "And I thought Azula was a prodigy."

"Pfft. Azula's no match for us." She strikes a pose with the sticks, drawing on her most dramatic voice. "We can take her."

His laugh is genuine, and she feels just the slightest bit proud that it's her doing. "Not with that stance, you won't."

"Hey!" She's trying her best to look put out, but she can't help but smile. "I thought you said I was doing really well."

He rolls his eyes. "You did, for a beginner." His eyes flick to the side. "If you want, I can teach you some offensive moves tomorrow."

"You mean I get to hit you with sticks?"

His shy look turns smug. "You could try."

She shoves the points of her sticks into the sand and holds out her hand. "Challenge accepted." He takes her hand and shakes it, his grip warm and firm and lasting a heartbeat too long. She takes her hand back and feigns a yawn. "You ready to get some sleep?"

He nods and starts toward the beach house. "Yeah. Tomorrow?"

She smiles. "Tomorrow."

* * *

Katara's eyes open to bright shafts of sunlight and the sound of birdsong outside her window. She stretches and feels a satisfied smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Last night had been… illuminating. For the first time in months a part of her wants to hurry time along instead of slow it down. Mentally she calculates the hours until evening based on the position of the sun in the sky. _If it's midmorning now, then…_

Wait. _Midmorning?_

She jolts out of bed, throwing back the blankets. As she exits her room she peeks down the hallway, but all of the doors are open and there's no sign of life. It's obvious that all of her friends are awake, already busy with the day's tasks while she's been whiling away the hours in bed. She runs a hand over her face as she makes her way downstairs.

She tiptoes toward the kitchen, hoping not to be noticed. Her foot hasn't even left the final stair when a voice calls to her from the sitting room.

"It's about time, Sugar Queen! So glad you finally decided to join us!"

Katara cringes. "Good morning, Toph. Has everyone eaten already?"

The girl appears in the hallway and leans against the wall. "Nope! In fact, when Sokka and Suki get back from the market, I'm sure they'll be _starving_. Zuko and Aang are out training in the back, and I'm sure they're working up quite the appetite too. All that sweating and grunting is hard work."

Katara eyes the girl, trying to get a read on her, but her perpetual half smirk doesn't give anything away. "I don't suppose you'd want to help me?"

"Sorry, too blind. Wouldn't want to hurt myself with sharp objects, right?"

"Right…" There's something about her tone that seems suspicious, but she can't quite place it. Katara isn't sure where this is going, but she has enough intuition to know that she wants to escape before she finds out. She shakes her head and makes her way to the kitchen.

By the time the rice is finished and the vegetables are steamed she can hear the creaking of the front door and knows that her brother and Suki must be back. There's shuffling as they take off their shoes and set down packages. Less than a minute later Sokka's face appears in the doorway, eyes comically wide.

"Is that breakfast?"

She ladles some rice into the last of the bowls. "Yes. Grab a few of these and help me bring them to the patio out back."

Bowls in hand, they arrive just as Zuko and Aang are finishing a series of tandem moves, fire flaring from hands and feet. They both breathe deeply as they center themselves, and then bow formally to one another. As soon as Aang sees her he immediately jogs in her direction.

"Katara! Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

She hands him a bowl. "Yes, Aang. Thank you. Sorry breakfast is late. I guess I must have been really tired."

Zuko catches up, toweling the sweat from his hair. He drapes the towel around his neck and takes the proffered bowl from her hands with a nod. She keeps her eyes everywhere but on his bare skin as he takes a seat not far from her on the steps. Together the six of them settle onto the lanai and dig in to their meal.

Swallowing a third bite, Aang beams at Katara. "This is really good. Did you do something different to the rice today?"

Sokka pipes up, his mouth half full. "Don't give her too much credit, Aang. It just tastes better because you're really hungry."

Katara frowns at him, though she knows he's only half-serious. "I said I was sorry. I'm not the only one around here who knows how to cook, you know."

He waves his chopsticks at her dismissively. "True, but the rest of us were busy. We were counting on you to be up with the rest of us."

Katara rolls her eyes. "Oh, like _you've_ never overslept before, _Snoozles_." Toph's nicknames finally came in handy for someone other than Toph.

Sokka's eyes sparkle. "Of course I have. And when I do, who's the first one to gripe about it? Fair's fair, Katara."

Before she can retort, Toph gives a sly smile. "I don't know about the rest of you, but _I_ can't help but wonder why Katara was so tired. Are you feeling okay, Sugar Queen?"

Katara gives her a flat look that she can't see, not buying the false concern. "I couldn't sleep. That's all."

Toph reclines on the stairs and lazily picks at her breakfast. "Oh? That's too bad. Since you were up, it must have been you that I felt going out to the beach last night."

Sparrowkeets take up residence in Katara's gut; she sits a little straighter to compensate. She can feel the eyes of the others on them, so she draws on her most aloof, dignified voice. "That's right, you did. So what?"

"Thought so. But who was with you?"

Katara fumbles her chopsticks, but Zuko speaks up before she can stammer out a response. "I was. I couldn't sleep either."

Toph slaps her knee in triumph, startling the group. "Aha! I knew it! You _did_ have a secret thing with Zuko!"

Katara can feel the heat in her face as the statement hangs in the air, the silence feeling more and more damning the longer it stretches out. When she finally speaks she can't control the volume of her voice; she's sure it's too forceful and too loud. "It's not like that! Zuko was just showing me how to handle a sword!"

Toph just casually keeps eating her rice, the corners of her mouth trembling. "Oh, I see. You were just playing with his _sword_. Nothing strange about _that_."

The heat in Katara's face flares. Beside her, Zuko groans and buries his face in his hands. Sokka quirks a brow and then narrows his eyes at Zuko, pointing with his chopsticks. "Hey, if anyone's going to show my sister how to handle a sword, it should be me."

Toph can contain herself no longer; she whoops and falls back onto the lanai, drumming her feet as her laughter echoes in the eaves. Sokka gives her a look.

"What?"

This only makes her laugh harder. Aang looks distinctly uncomfortable. "Hey you guys, stop picking on Katara. She made us a great breakfast and now we'll have lots of energy to keep working until dinner."

Katara feels both grateful and ashamed of his support. Part of her regrets even getting out of bed this morning, but, oddly, even this teasing is not enough to make her regret getting out of bed last night. Still, enough was enough. She gives him a tight smile as she collects the bowls. "Thank you, Aang. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to clean these up so that I'm not late with Sokka's precious dinner later."

Sokka catches her arm as she tries to pass. "Wait! Katara! Listen up, guys. You won't believe what Suki and I found in the market this morning." He pulls out a large scroll from his belt. "There's a play about us!"

And so she's spared from making dinner that night as the group opts to spend the evening at the theater. It's supposed to be fun, but it isn't. Instead, complicated things become even more complicated, things which were distant get a little closer, and things which were once close ease a little farther apart. Questions are raised about the future, and questions about the past are answered. When it is finally over they all trudge home in silence, filing into their bedrooms with mumbled promises that things would be better in the morning.

Mind overwhelmed by the play and all of its associated events, it isn't until Katara is on the edge of sleep that she remembers her date – no, _appointment_ with Zuko. Her eyes snap open, but she doesn't get out of bed just yet. Would he be waiting for her? Did she want him to be? What did that mean, exactly? Was it worth another round of teasing from Toph? Was it worth the look Aang might give her if he knew?

She isn't sure of the answers to these questions, but she swings her legs out of bed nevertheless. It probably wouldn't matter anyway. He was probably in bed, fast asleep. At the very least, she could take a walk and clear her head.

She creeps out of the house and rounds the steep hill that leads to the shore. When she looks to the beach it is empty, and she feels an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. But as she gets closer, she can see a shock of dark hair peeking out from behind a sand bank.

He's seated on the sand, one arm hitched over a raised knee as he stares out to sea. Twin sets of makeshift swords are stuck in the sand at his side. When he sees her he stands, and just like the night before, they regard each other carefully, wanting to engage but not quite sure how to begin.

She takes the first step. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here."

His gaze is steady. "I wasn't sure if you'd come."

She drops her eyes and studies her hands. "I'm glad you did." She doesn't know what makes her say it, the words tumble out on their own accord. "It wasn't true. The play. None of it."

"None of it?"

The look he's giving her is unreadable, and she isn't quite sure what he's angling for. Then she chuckles, thinking of the overblown caricatures of themselves and the ridiculous scenarios. That must be what he means, right? "…Maybe some of it. But not the ending. It won't be like that." He nods but remains silent. "Who cares about a stupid play anyway, right?"

A small smile. "Right."

She smiles and gestures for the sticks. "Ready to show me what you got, Blue Spirit?"

His answering grin is more than enough to help her keep her worries at bay for just this moment.

* * *

It's a nightmare scenario. After almost a year of hard work to finally bring this war to an end, the future stands less certain now than it had ever been. The world's last hope for peace had vanished, taking her confidence and sense of security right along with him. The sky bleeds red with the approaching comet, staining the crests of the waves as they hurtle toward a fate that's riddled with question marks.

Katara's hair whips about her face as she steals a glance at her companion. Concern is etched onto his face, his brow is furrowed and his mouth is set in a thin line. Mustering optimism she doesn't quite feel, she breaks him out of his thoughts.

"Zuko, don't worry, we can take Azula." She approximates her silly pose from a week ago as best she can while sitting on the back of a flying bison. "Remember?"

His smile almost reaches his eyes. Then he sighs and voices the things she is not willing to say. "I'm not worried about her, I'm worried about Aang. What if he doesn't have the guts to take out my father? What if he loses?"

She steels her spine. "Aang won't lose. He's gonna come back. He has to."

His eyes search hers, and there's a desperation there that scares her. "You really think so?"

She gives a tight nod, careful to keep her eyes trained on his. "Of course. We're going to win, Zuko. We've all worked too hard to just give up now. With each of us doing our part, we'll restore balance and end this war once and for all."

He studies her a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he drops his eyes and shifts his weight, digging in his right boot. She watches in confusion until he pulls out a familiar object and holds it out to her. His eyes are solemn.

"I want you to have this."

Looking at the object she is reminded of chopping contests and friendly banter, and her heart aches with the longing to return to the sweet simplicity of it. "Your Earth Kingdom knife? Why?"

He gestures impatiently for her to take it. "Please. As a reminder. As backup."

She doesn't know exactly what he means, but hesitantly she takes the knife from him and tests the weight of it in her hands. "Thank you, Zuko." She can't help but smile, mind still caught in the past. "But if you give me this, how are you supposed to help me with dinner tomorrow night?"

He gives her a sad smile. "No more making dinner, Katara. After this, it will be all over."

It's ridiculous, but for some reason it's this simple comment that brings the weight of reality crashing over her like a wave. He was right: no more dinners, no more lounging around a campfire, no more rigorous training, no more silly adventures or harrowing escapes or long days of travelling on the back of a bison. For better or worse, their journey together was at its end. This was it.

She can feel tears pricking behind her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She takes a deep breath and focuses on the unexpected gift in her hands, hoping it will provide a momentary distraction. There is a soft click as she separates the knife from the sheath. To her surprise a different inscription greets her, the characters etched into the steel bold and certain.

 _Never give up without a fight._

Understanding dawns and her eyes blur for just a moment, but this time the tears aren't melancholy. As she takes a deep breath she can feel the spark of hope in her chest flare, radiating warmth. On impulse she leans into him, breaching the distance and resting her head against his shoulder. After a beat his arm comes up around her, and they both look unflinchingly forward as the sky turns to fire. She doesn't know what the future holds, but one way or another they will face it together.

* * *

Except that they don't face it together.

Zuko's insistence on fighting his sister alone leaves her dumbstruck for only an instant before being overshadowed by worry and indignation. Katara doesn't care about honor or duty or any of those other artificial, fanciful notions. She cares about being left behind to gnaw her fingernails to the quick as she watches from the sidelines. She cares about all the training and sweat and tears that have amounted to nothing as she is left helpless to intervene. She cares about the growing pit in her gut as she is blinded by the clash of red and blue and the traitorous thoughts that victory might not be certain at all.

Above all, she cares about her friend. She cares about Zuko.

And right now the battle is not in his favor.

Even with all her hope, in her darkest moments she had acknowledged the possibility that this might not end well, that they might not come out of this together. Losses were possible – Ba Sing Se had illustrated that awful reality quite vividly. And not just Aang – Jet, Yue, her mother – all of them and thousands more had lost their lives to the war. It could be any of them. It could be her. She admitted this to herself long ago, but she had dismissed it. _Of course_ they would win the war; _of course_ Aang would restore balance to the world. But as she watches the battle unfold the sense that this story might not have a happy ending becomes more and more prominent in her mind.

They could die here.

It isn't what she wants, but she could at least face the reality of it with dignity. If she had to die, there was no more noble cause than bringing this senseless violence to an end. It wouldn't be like Ba Sing Se – she would make sure of that. She would protect Zuko with all she was worth, no matter what the cost. With a shaking breath she resigns herself to an uncertain fate.

An unfamiliar weight in her boot presses against her skin as she shifts. Zuko's knife. The inscription flashes across her mind and she steels her spine as she reminds herself that this battle isn't over yet. Now was not the time for despair. He can still turn this around. And she can be right there to help if he needs her.

She edges closer and uncorks her water skin, bravery renewed. They can do this.

But when Azula's cold eyes shift and lock with hers, hands full of blazing light, Katara realizes she was wrong. About everything.

She isn't ready at all.

All those highfalutin notions of sacrifice or dignity are nothing in the face of her towering fear. Distantly she wonders if this is what her mother must have felt in her final moments, though her mother was braver than she could ever hope to be.

Katara freezes but Zuko doesn't; before she can even register what's happening her vision of the princess is interrupted as he throws himself between her and certain death.

When his body collides with the ground she is certain she will never breathe again.

Except that she has to. How stupid to think that only a short time ago she felt left out and now she is the only one left. If it was a fight she had wanted, her wish had been granted. Her body moves on instinct as her thoughts spin – it shouldn't have been this way, all of this was a mistake, the best of intentions gone horribly wrong. She would think it was all just another bad dream except for the very real heat of the blue fire that threatens to consume her whole.

It's a lot of skill and a little dumb luck that brings the fight to an end, but even as she secures the princess to the grate she feels no victory. The sky is raw above her as she races across the cobblestone, aware that what she finds may alter her destiny in ways she couldn't have predicted months before.

Her journey had begun when one unconscious boy had blinked open his eyes, and as she pushes her awareness into healing the blistered skin beneath her hands she prays that it will end the same way.

His creaking voice as he thanks her is quite possibly the sweetest thing she's ever heard.

The next few days pass by in a blur; she stands motionless in a whirlwind of events which spin past her like she is standing in the eye of a storm. Two royal family members are imprisoned, and two are reunited. Her friends arrive at the palace and tell epic tales of fighting in the Earth Kingdom. She hugs them all a little more frequently and a little more fiercely than she ever did before. She keeps close to them all, but one person in particular.

Katara becomes more than familiar with the rooms belonging to the crown prince as she helps tend to his wounds. She tells herself this is merely practical; though her healing has thus far been thorough his injury was near catastrophic. It doesn't hurt to be careful. In the afternoons they play pai sho; in the evenings his Uncle treats them to tea. Often times they are joined by various combinations of their friends, but sometimes it's just the two of them. Aang seems to linger more than the others, but despite his attempts to get her to explore other parts of the palace with him she doesn't budge. She tries to ignore the guilty feeling in her heart when he sends disappointed looks in her direction when he leaves the two of them alone.

Now that there's no longer an enemy to fight or dishes to be washed or training schedules to follow, there's time to talk and time to listen. Katara almost doesn't notice, but in these quiet, unhurried spaces the awkward gaps become fewer and fewer until they rarely appear at all. The topics of conversation are wide-ranging, from favorite childhood games to the most unusual places they have visited to the most disgusting food ever eaten – Katara wins that one hands down with giant swamp bugs. Sometimes, however, the conversations are more serious; most memories from the past had emotional energy attached that was impossible to avoid. Though no topic was off-limits, neither speaks about what happened the night of Sozin's Comet.

They fall into easy patterns, and for a little while Katara thinks she could get used to this. She almost starts to feel comfortable in the rhythm of this life, but then she remembers that this is only temporary. She had been right when she thought they might not all come out of this together; though everyone was happy and healthy, the thing that has kept them all together was now at an end. The realization hits her hard as the future spans before her and she finds herself at a crossroads.

One afternoon she and Zuko are left to themselves and the pai sho game in front of them is at an impasse. She can't move forward and she can't move back without significant sacrifices. It's a little like her own situation now and she hates the parallels. She puts her chin in her hand and sighs as she contemplates her next move.

"Something wrong?"

She glances at Zuko, who is propped up with an obscene number of cushions and surrounded by red silk. The bed is so soft that she has to be careful when she shifts uncomfortably so as not to disrupt the playing board. She shakes her head. "No, it's nothing."

"Or something."

She knows he doesn't mean it that way, but she can't help but think of their conversation back at the beach house. It seems like a hundred years ago, but the unseen shadow of it hangs over them both. Her mood dips even more. "No, I'm fine."

He scoffs. "And Azula said _I_ was a bad liar."

She quirks a brow at him. "But if Azula always lies, wouldn't that mean that you're actually a good liar?"

He puzzles it out for a moment and gives up. He sends her a pointed look. "You're changing the subject."

She studies the board without seeing it. "I'm just thinking about the end of the war. I can't believe it's finally over."

His face clouds in confusion. "And you're unhappy about that?"

Katara rolls her eyes. "Of course not. I'm glad we won. I guess it just feels a little weird now. No more dinners, remember?"

He is quiet for a long moment as he considers this. "Sometimes, when soldiers come back from war, there's an adjustment period." He smiles. "If you want it to be more like old times, you could commandeer the kitchens. Or you could grab some sticks from the garden and try to hit me with them."

She grins in spite of herself. "Wouldn't I get in trouble for attacking the Fire Lord?"

He snorts. "Hasn't that been your whole mission for the past year?"

She waves a hand at him. "That was different. You're not planning to take over the world." She slants her eyes at him playfully. "Or are you?"

He frowns. "Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I'm not the Fire Lord yet."

"But you will be." Her smile falters. "And that's just it. We were a team, and now everyone will go their separate ways. You'll be Fire Lord, Sokka and Suki will go back to the South, and Toph will go who knows where as long as it's far away from her parents. Aang wants to look for more airbenders, and that search could take him anywhere. We're all headed in different directions." The pieces on the board blur, but she takes a deep breath to quell the emotion bubbling just below the surface. "I miss everyone already but no one's even gone yet."

He considers this for a long moment and then asks, "What about you? What will you do next?"

She's thought about it a hundred times over the past few days, but all the paths still seem murky. "I could go home, I guess. I haven't seen Gran-Gran in almost a year. I know that Aang wants me to join him, but I don't know what that will mean or how long it would be for. Or I might be able to go back North. I never finished my training as a healer."

He keeps his voice casual, but he's fidgeting with the tassels on one of the cushions. "So you'll be leaving?"

She shrugs. "Well I can't stay here."

"Why not?" His face matches his sheets as she blinks at him in surprise. "You could, if you wanted. For as long or as little as you like." She continues to stare, so he keeps talking. "It's just another option, though I don't know if that helps."

She's caught up in the idea of it: staying in the Fire Nation for a while, helping Zuko recover and watching him take his birthright by storm. They could still have chopping contests and sword lessons and all the rest, right?

It's a fantasy she shouldn't even indulge. What use would it be anyway? The Fire Lord doesn't cook his own meals and without an enemy to fight she has no use for swordplay. Not to mention that she's literally out of her element - socially, politically, and nationally. She'd just be in the way. Besides, there are other things – other _people_ – to consider as she makes her choice. There are no easy answers. She doesn't know how to say all of this without seeming like she is rejecting him. Some things might be uncertain, but she knows for sure that she does _not_ want to reject him.

She is saved from a response by a firm knock at his bedroom door, the sound of it startling them both as it echoes off the rafters. A moment later Sokka appears.

"Thought I'd find you here. The rest of us are going down to the market for a bit. You wanna come, Katara?"

She shakes her head and returns her attention to the board in front of her. "We're in the middle of a game, Sokka."

She expects wheedling from Sokka; what she does not expect is for Zuko to take his side. "She'll go."

She shoots Zuko a challenging look. "Oh I will, will I?"

But his look is sincere. "Go be with your family. I promise not to do anything reckless while you're gone and ruin all of your hard work."

She narrows her eyes. "But can I trust you not to move the pai sho tiles?"

He bends a little at the waist and puts a solemn hand over his heart. "You have my word of honor." His eyes peek out from under his bangs and his look is smug. "Not that it would matter. You were going to lose anyway."

She reaches over and smacks him playfully on the arm, but she still hesitates to get off the bed. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Katara, I'm sure. Here." With effort he gets out of bed and stiffly walks to a desk along one wall. He scribbles on a piece of parchment with a brush and then affixes his seal. He returns to where she sits and hands her the paper. "Tell the vendors that whatever you all buy is courtesy of the royal family. Just don't let Sokka bankrupt the treasury, okay?"

She looks at the paper and smiles. "Thanks Zuko. I promise to keep him in line." On impulse she gives him a brief hug before waving over her shoulder as she follows her brother.

The streets are alive with people, shops and stalls bustling with activity. It feels good to be out in the world again, even just this small part of it. The fresh air and crowded streets are invigorating. As they scan the stalls, the group is more than happy to indulge in a few luxuries as well as new items of clothing to replace their threadbare travelling attire. Katara carefully steers Toph away from games of chance while Aang points out items he thinks she might fancy. Nothing catches her eye until they pass a particular vendor, and she stops to inspect the merchandise with excitement curling in her chest. Until she sees the price tags, that is. She groans inwardly. Still, she can't pass this up.

She finds her brother two stalls down sampling skewers packed with meat. Katara tugs on his sleeve. "Sokka! Do we have any money left from scamming with Toph?"

He looks confused. "Yeah, but why? Zuko's buying today."

She ignores him. "How much?"

He unties his money pouch from his hip and she snatches it from him, digging until she has a handful of gold pieces. "Perfect! Thanks Sokka!"

" _Hey!"_

Later that night, she creeps out of bed and makes her way to the royal suite, her purchase tucked under her arm. It's not quite a secret meeting; the posted guards greet her as she gently pulls open the bedroom door and shuts it behind her.

She had intended to simply sneak in and leave the gift on his bedside, but to her dismay Zuko is sitting up in bed, a small tray with ink and parchment settled across his lap. The surprise on his face softens to a smile.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She nods. "You could say that." He motions for her to come closer, and she does. She settles directly on the bed; they are beyond any pretense and he would chastise her if she tried to sit anywhere else. "I, um, have a present for you."

He sets aside his writing and frowns. "You were supposed to be shopping for _you_."

The admonition doesn't stop his breath from catching as he cracks open the lid of the long mahogany box, revealing a new set of broadswords. The decorative metal scrollwork on the sheath is elegant in its simplicity; she feels that it suits him. He runs a hand over the length of it, shaking his head.

"Katara, this is too much."

Her voice is firm. "It isn't enough."

His fingers trail over the fine leather wound around the twin hilts. He gives her a look. "Blue?"

"As a reminder."

The sad smile he gives her tears at her heart; she can't make any more promises about the future than that, but she can at least give him this. His long fingers grip the leather. "May I?"

She gestures at the empty space near his bed. "Please."

Climbing out of bed, he removes the set from the box with care. He shoulders the sheath and adjusts the strap. Then, in one fluid motion, he unsheathes the swords and separates them with a flourish. He spins one lazily with a loose wrist, testing the weight. With slow, careful movements he runs through a few forms, cautious not to pull too hard on his still mending muscles. The display is a little more stilted than the one she had seen on the beach, but it's no less beautiful. Those swords belonged in his hands. By the time he resheathes them and pulls the strap over his shoulder, she is grinning widely. The bed dips as he sits down next to her, settling the swords between them.

"These are spectacular, Katara. I don't deserve this."

She frowns. "I think you more than earned them. You saved my life."

"And you saved mine. I'd say we're even."

She huffs. "Well, maybe it's not about being even. But it is about balance." At his confused look she takes a breath and her eyes fall to the bed. "Do you remember what you told me about these swords? They are more powerful when they're together. They are a single unit and they belong working side by side."

His face drops. "Katara, I – "

"Let me finish." She swallows. They had avoided this topic for days now, but some things needed to be said. "I wish you would have let me help you instead of letting me save you. I'll let you keep these only if you remember that we're stronger when we work together."

"Together?"

The cautious hope in his eyes frightens her and she backpedals. "I mean all of us. Even the Fire Lord needs help sometimes, right? Don't be afraid to call on your friends when you need them."

"Friends. Of course."

Inwardly she curses. This isn't want she wants to say at all, but the words aren't coming out right and the melancholy is returning. It's too much like saying goodbye, and it isn't honest enough for something so important. Maybe she could try again tomorrow after she had thought this through. She stands. "Well, I'll let you get back to… well, sleep I hope, but maybe not."

"Wait." He tugs on her wrist and she sinks back down on the bed. Even when it's clear she isn't going anywhere his hand doesn't withdraw; instead it skims lightly across her skin until his long fingers come to rest gently over her own. He studies their hands. "Thank you. For everything. You trusted me – twice – to do the right thing and both times I let you down. I thought maybe I could keep you from getting hurt this time, but it backfired on me. I should have known to include you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

Katara cringes. The last thing she wants is an apology. This was supposed to be a joyous moment, a meaningful gift for the person who has come to mean so much to her, but somehow she lost control of the situation entirely. She looks at the ground. "Zuko, don't be sorry. I didn't come here to lecture you. I just – I just wanted you to have these and I hope that when you use them you'll remember me. That's all."

His hand leaves hers and she wants to protest, but before she can it finds its way to her face. He strokes her cheek with his thumb, disturbing her hair. At her surprised look he flushes and bites his lip. He leans a little closer. "You're, um, kind of hard to forget." Her brain screams for her to react, but all she can do is blink at him. After a beat he looks away and the hand at her face retreats as he starts to lean back. "Right. Well. I suppose I should get to sleep - "

He body moves of its own accord. She springs forward and reaches for him with both hands, fingers twisting in his hair. When she brings her lips to his her heart sings at his sharp intake of breath and the way his arms automatically come up to surround her. He's more gentle than she might have guessed, more shy. Somehow that makes her decision even harder.

He pulls back and strokes her hair, a little stunned and a little subdued. "Wow. I'll certainly remember _that_."

She laughs. She wishes it could stay this way. But impulses are just that – actions without forethought and with potentially disastrous consequences. Her smile falters a bit and she bites her lip. "It's still complicated, isn't it?"

He sighs deeply but doesn't release his hold on her. "Yeah. I suppose it is."

She nods. "For me, too." One hand leaves his hair and runs across the scrollwork of the sheath beside them. "But maybe… maybe if it isn't, someday?"

"I'd like that." The brittle smile he gives her fades. "I don't know what's going to happen. I wish I could make you more promises."

She leans her forehead against his. "Just promise me that if things become uncomplicated, you'll let me know."

"Only if you promise the same."

She grins. "Never give up without a fight?"

He closes the distance between them and gives her one more kiss, one that curls her toes, making her think that things might be becoming less complicated by the moment. When he pulls back he gives her a knowing smile.

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

* * *

A/N - This oneshot was written for tasarienthewardenofcydonia for the 2015 Zutara Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr. Interestingly, this is the second year in a row that I have had the privilege to make something for this Zutarian; last year when I asked for prompts they provided me with "spirit world" and I wrote a little ditty called "Life After" in response. This year, I used the following prompts:

1\. Katara meets the Blue Spirit  
2\. You did have a secret thing with Zuko!  
3\. cooking  
4\. surprise gift

I really liked the first prompt, but I wanted to take a more subtle approach to it. As I was thinking about how to do this, it occurred to me that Katara is not only ignorant of the identity of the Blue Spirit (as is the rest of the group except Aang), but she has never even seen Zuko use his swords. Which of course makes sense: until he abandons the Fire Nation and joins the group his secret identity has to remain separate from his identity as Zuko, so he would never be seen just carrying them around or fighting with them. I also noticed that while he has his swords with him during the Firebending Masters episode, after this he is never seen with them again. Which is weird; you'd think he'd want to take them along when hunting Yon Rha or during the final battle. My explanation for this is that his swords were lost when Azula attacked the temple. Unless of course I'm forgetting something, in which case please just go along with this premise even if I'm mistaken. :)

Sorry for the ambiguous ending. I wanted to keep it canon compliant(ish) and stay true to their characters while still leaving the possibility for something more. I'll let you decide for yourself if it stays true to canon or if things become less complicated. ;)

I had a lot of fun putting this together. Thanks for the great prompts, tasarienthewardenofcydonia! Hope you enjoyed it and have a happy and healthy holiday!


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